


the past didn't go anywhere

by blueabsinthe



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, New York Rangers, Philadelphia Flyers, post-buyout
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-01
Updated: 2014-10-01
Packaged: 2018-02-19 11:23:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2386547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueabsinthe/pseuds/blueabsinthe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now the past didn't go anywhere, did it? It's right here, right now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the past didn't go anywhere

**Author's Note:**

  * For [luciferinasundaysuit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/luciferinasundaysuit/gifts).



> Title is from the album of the same name by Ani DiFranco and Utah Phillips. 
> 
> Done for the prompt: _Brad Richards/Vincent Lecavalier, ""I love you."" ""Yeah, man, me too. ""No, I mean, I still love you.""_

Vince is in Florida when word of Brad’s buyout reaches him. It takes him almost a week before he can come up with a reply. Even then, all he can manage to type is: _Sorry._

Vince is only half-lying to himself about being upset when his phone stays silent. Vince does his best not to think about the situation. Because damn it, when did their lives get so out of control? 

He leaves it for a day. Which turns into two. Until, four straight days pass before Vince finally gets on a plane to New York. 

He knows there’s no reason keeping Brad in New York as he knocks on his door, and waits. It wasn’t like they had solidified plans. Try as he might, Vince knew this wasn’t like their Tampa days, or even Brad’s Dallas days. His thoughts are spinning, even as he hears the locks being undone on Brad’s door.

If Brad is at all surprised to see him, he hides it as he steps to the side, and opens his door wider, allowing Vince to walk in. 

“You didn’t have to come, y’know,” Brad says, his voice low. 

Vince catches and holds Brad’s gaze, and he can see something wavering in the amber depths. Sometimes, during their days at Notre Dame, Brad would get an almost faraway look on his face. Vince never knew how to reach him then. It felt like trying to reach across time and space to even manage to gain an inch. He’s never felt so close, and yet so far away all at the same time. So … absolutely helpless. It scares him. 

“How’ve you been?” Vince inwardly winces at the question. It feels like filler, a way to try and shake off the nerves. Nerves he really shouldn’t be having, given their shared history. 

“Well, considering I don’t have a new Cup ring, and I’m now a UFA, I’d say I’m doing about as well as can be expected.”

Vince wants to hold Brad so badly it hurts, but he can’t seem to cross the space separating them to do so. Brad seems to know what he’s thinking then, he always knows. Vince watches as Brad crosses the floor to him, his arms wrapping around Vince’s waist. Vince is so overwhelmed, and feels so full, he can barely breathe. He lets his chin rest on Brad’s shoulder, pressing his mouth to Brad’s ear. 

“It’ll be all right,” he whispers.

“Sure it will,” Brad murmurs. 

The warmth from Brad’s fingers is gentle against Vince’s back, his heartbeat steady against Vince. They don’t say anything, and the silence creeps up like a cloud, thick and heavy against Vince’s skin. 

Eventually, Vince disentangles himself from Brad’s arms. “I’m sorry.” Vince flinches, the words seem dull and not the least bit helpful. He’s not even sure what it is he’s apologizing for, all he knows is that he means it. He’s sorry for the buyout news. Sorry that Brad looks so miserable, despite his efforts not to. He watches as Brad’s stance stiffens, his fingers curling into fists against the wall. His hands and upper body shake.

“Damn it, Vince,” he starts, his frustration boiling to the surface, clouding his eyes.

“It’ll be okay,” Vince whispers, pressing his palm to Brad’s shoulder. Brad shrugs his hand off, and turns to look at him.

“You don’t know that. For god’s sake, Vinny, you don’t know a damn thing.” Brad curls his hands into fists against Vince’s shirt. 

“Brad,” Vince says, tone calm. Vince hardly recognizes his voice as his own. His hands curl around Brad’s wrists, as he repeats his name again. He’s still not even sure what to say in that instant. “I’m sorry … so sorry,” he repeats numbly.

“Stop saying you’re sorry, damn it,” Brad says, trying to tug his wrists free. “I can’t bear to hear it anymore. I can’t stand to hear the pity in your voice. I don’t want it. I don’t … don’t need it.”

Vince is painfully aware of how close their bodies are. He can almost hear the thrum of Brad’s pulse against his skin. All he can think about in that moment is how he wants to press his lips to Brad’s collarbone, and nip at the thin skin as Brad says his name over and over until it sounds like white noise. Vince doesn’t even realize he is tugging Brad closer until he lowers his head and presses his mouth to Brad’s. 

Brad’s voice is all breathy and low. His eyes blinking furiously in an attempt to keep the room in focus, as Vince scrapes his teeth over Brad’s neck. Brad whines, his hands sliding down Vince’s side to rest on his hips.

“Vinny, fuck - this is … I,” Brad’s voice falters. The memories of all those days back in their dorm at Notre Dame weighs heavy against his chest cavity. It was stupid to dwell on the past. No one got anywhere living on past dreams. 

“You?” Vince prompts, the monosyllable sounds long and drawn out on his tongue, as he brushes his lips over Brad’s jawline.

“Vinny, I …” Brad tries again. He wills his eyes to look at Vince, his surroundings dissolving around Vince’s silhouette. Vince’s eyes are dark, but strangely bright.

“Shh,” Vince whispers, shifting closer to him, so every part of his body is pressed to every part of Brad’s. He can hear Brad’s sharp intake of breath when he feels how hard Vince is against him. Vince can feel the heat pooling in his belly, and he can’t seem to think about anything but kissing Brad until they’re both dizzy. 

So, he does. His breath is warm against Brad’s lips as he kisses him softly, like he is the only thing that matters in that moment. It takes Brad a moment, before he kisses him back, open mouthed and desperate, nipping at Vince’s bottom lip, soft, but, hard enough to draw blood. Vince flinches, but as the coppery taste fills his mouth, he tugs Brad closer, his palms digging into Brad’s hips.

Vince’s eyes are open as he strokes one of his hands over the rough denim of Brad’s jeans. The motion is practiced, and yet, it feels new. Brad’s gasping out his name, his hips surging against Vince’s palm. Brad is wide-eyed and desperate, fingers digging into Vince’s bicep.

A strangled gasp escapes Vince’s throat as Brad slides the fly down on his jeans, and Vince feels whole for the first time in almost a year. “Brad …” his voice trails off as Brad curls his fingers around him, slow and languid. 

Vince manages to get Brad’s jeans undone, and pushed past his hips, before he’s gripping him, his forehead resting against Brad’s. Brad is quick to rid Vince of his jeans, before his mouth is searching for Vince’s. Little, breathy moans escape Brad’s mouth. 

Brad keeps his eyes open the whole time, the two of them clinging to each other desperately. Their breaths get lost to the atmosphere and sounds of New York flitting up to them in the late afternoon sun. 

Afterwards, they are laying on Brad’s bed, the light fading into darkness. Vince rolls onto his side, taking in the way the fading light kisses Brad’s cheeks, and bare torso. Brad looks almost spectral, and it steals all the breath Vince has in his lungs. The space between them feels overfull with things Vince never managed to say after his buyout, and now, after Brad’s subsequent buyout, all the words feel mechanical. 

All he can think about is how much Brad has always meant to him. “I love you,” he murmurs finally, and Vince just … he really does. He’s always felt this way about Brad. About them. 

Brad chuckles lightly, and playfully shoves at Vince’s shoulder. “Yeah, man, me too.”

Vince inhales sharply, the words getting caught in his throat. “No,” he starts, “I mean, I still love you.”

Brad is silent for a moment, before he leans in and kisses him, nipping at Vince’s bottom lip as he pulls away. His eyes look distant, almost sad, looking at Vince like he is the one real thing in that moment. Vince finds himself wondering how different everything would be now if they were still a part of the Lightning. 

Brad’s next spoken words bring Vince back to his place on the bed. “I know.” Brad shifts closer, interlacing their fingers. “I know,” he repeats.

And, for now, it’s enough.


End file.
